


Accidental Babies

by RoswellSmokingWoman



Series: Songfics [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Bonding, Breeding, Cheating, Eventual Happy Ending, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal and Will are end goal, Heartbreak, Knotting, M/M, No death of Hannibal or Will, Omega Verse, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:08:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23436709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoswellSmokingWoman/pseuds/RoswellSmokingWoman
Summary: After finding out that Hannibal is the Chesapeake Ripper, Will moves on with Matthew Brown in an attempt to forget Hannibal. But Hannibal cannot let Will forget. He cannot let Will go.
Relationships: Matthew Brown/Will Graham, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: Songfics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1681891
Comments: 15
Kudos: 155





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [APastandFutureNerd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/APastandFutureNerd/gifts), [pensee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pensee/gifts).



> This fic is inspired by Damien Rice's Song--Accidental Babies
> 
> I will post the end to this in the next couple of days.

Hannibal watches Will from afar, a growl escaping his throat. Another man reaches out, touching Will’s arm. Will leans into him, pressing a kiss to the lips of the Alpha sitting across from him. It feels wrong to see Will like this, to watch him with another Alpha. Hannibal’s hand, normally still as a surgeon’s, trembles. A whirlwind of jealousy and regret consumes him, emotions he is not usually accustomed to. He lets himself succumb to his secondary sex, his Alpha hindbrain operating in full-blown insanity.

He would wring the man’s neck and roast him over an open flame, rotate his carcass for hours by hand, and serve him with an apple in his mouth like a Christmas hog. Will and the Alpha stand from the park bench, holding hands, walking away. Hannibal stays in his spot hidden by the trees, his feet planted firmly on the ground, unmoving. He knows if he were to follow them, he would make mistakes. He cannot afford to make mistakes.

It begins to rain overhead, the clouds grey and fat with sorrow. Hannibal walks in the other direction away from the pair, the distance between him and Will growing larger with every step. He closes his eyes, focusing on the raindrops, how they coat him with a wet and cold longing that sinks into his bones. His thoughts wander away from the park, away from reality…

_Will laughs at Hannibal’s side, walking through the same park. It’s their first public outing, and Will is giddy. It’s not something Hannibal had seen before, but happiness sprouts from the garden that is Will Graham, fertile and bursting with potential. Will is ahead of him, walking backwards as he talks about his latest case, his lips moving frantically._

_“Watch out,” Hannibal says, a biker riding off into Will’s path. He pulls Will’s hand, pulling him into his chest._

_Will stops for a moment, inhaling the scent of Hannibal: like rich pine, the scent of winter, a crackling fire, and hot chocolate. He closes his eyes, breathing in Alpha, the scent of his Alpha. He’d never imagined having a partner, a mate. When he had met Hannibal, he had been the farthest things from his choice of mate, so seemingly incompatible with him. Hannibal grew on him, quickly, though, from their first breakfast together. He’d never thought he would have Hannibal like this. His scent sends shivers down Will’s spin, and he looks up to Hannibal with desire. “Thank you.”_

_“You should be more careful,” Hannibal chastises, pushing forward._

_They continue their walk, hand in hand. Neither of them wants to let go._

His phone rings, Alana’s number on the screen. With a sigh, he picks it up. “Hello, Alana.” Hannibal’s hair is growing wet from the rain, but he doesn’t particularly care. He’s too consumed by the memory to respond to the chill spreading throughout his body.

“I’ve been calling for months, Hannibal.”

“I’ve been preoccupied, I’m sorry.” He knows it sounds impolite, insincere, but he cannot keep up the façade, not in this moment.

Alana sighs into the phone, worried. “Is it about Will?”

“I don’t talk about my relationships; this is between Will and I.”

“It’s over, Hannibal.” Alana pauses, knowing how harsh her words sound, “It’s difficult. I don’t understand it—you two were so in love.”

“We were. The reminder is—”

“I know, Hannibal, I’m sorry. What I mean to say is Will is unpredictable. There is no way to know what was going through his mind at the time, but he’s not coming back. And you can’t uproot your whole life because of this. I’ve picked up a couple of your patients, you know, but they’d like their old psychiatrist back. And I would like my friend back.”

“I’ll invite you over for dinner, soon,” Hannibal offers, his voice picking up. “And I will resume my psychiatry, but only when I’m ready.”

“I want to make sure that you’re okay.”

“I get out of bed every day. I compose, I cook. I haven’t let myself hit bedrock, Alana. You know I never would sink so low. I will be fine, eventually.”

“That’s good, Hannibal. I care, I hope you know that.”

****

His name is Matthew Brown. Alana had let is slip. Hannibal realizes that she’s been playing both sides, a friend to both him and Will. He doesn’t want her to choose, knowing how valuable her position as Will’s friend is to him. This way he knows that Will had moved on quickly after leaving him, how Matthew Brown treats them, and on how stable their relationship is. 

Hannibal watches as Alana shifts in her seat uncomfortably, cutting the meat on her plate. “I shouldn’t have said that,” Alana whispers. “I’m sorry.”

“We aren’t children, Alana. I don’t expect you to give up your friendship with Will for my sake. It’s normal to talk about your friends.”

Alana nods, taking a sip of her wine.

“How is he doing?” Hannibal asks, his eyes softening.

Alana looks at him, finding the wreckage in the man’s face. It hurts her to know that he is suffering in the throes of heartbreak. She wishes she could comfort him, could reach out to him. Her inner omega pushes her to do so, to offer him an alternative. She chooses not to act on it, instead maintaining her place as his friend. She knows she cannot have a healthy relationship with him if his heart is elsewhere.

“Will is getting better, moving on. Matthew is treating him well.”

“Is he happy?” Hannibal knows he shouldn’t push, shouldn’t take advantage of her. He sees the longing building up within her eyes, the attraction. He can’t help himself, using her like this, letting the pain within him come to the forefront.

Alana looks at her plate, now mostly empty, and pushes it away. She looks up at him, leaning her head to the side. “On the outside, he looks happy, Hannibal.”

“But on the inside?”

“I can’t say. It’s best not to hope…”

“I only wish him happiness, that’s all.” Hannibal resumes his meal, Alana pouring herself another glass of wine.

_Will lays on top of Hannibal, pressing kisses into his chest. “I don’t want to get out of bed.”_

_“We don’t have to. Cancel your lectures, call Jack and tell him you can’t consult today.” Hannibal kisses the top of Will’s head, noting the scent of ripe fruit like a tropical cornucopia. He feels so lucky to hold him in his arms, to have Will, the perfect omega._

_“You know I can’t.”_

_Hannibal rolls them over, Will now pinned underneath him. “Are you sure?”_

_“Maybe not so much,” Will laughs, pulling Hannibal’s head closer to his._

_Hannibal groans in pleasure, hardening in his boxers. He kisses Will hungrily, possessively. “You’re mine, for today and tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that…”_

_“I’m yours always,” Will husks, kissing Hannibal._

****

Will and Hannibal sit next to each other in Jack’s office, Will tapping his finger against Jack’s desk. They both knew this day would calm, where they would have to work together again. Will had hoped Hannibal would stop consulting, would no longer answer Jack’s calls. Hope is not the same as truth; Will knows that Hannibal had waited for this day, for months.

“I need to know you can work together,” Jack says, his voice sharp. Jack had known, for some time, about Will and Hannibal. He had disapproved of their relationship at first, until he saw how inseparable they were. How Will changed whenever he was with Hannibal, calmer and more stable. He was surprised to see it end. In a way, he hopes Hannibal would win him back—Will having reverted to his old self: twitchy, uncomfortable, unpredictable.

“Of course,” Hannibal responds, clasping his hands on his lap.

“I have no issues,” Will breathes, knowing it’s a lie. He wouldn’t allow Hannibal to think he’s affected by this, by having him in the room next to him. But Hannibal’ presence is overwhelming. The omega inside of him scratches at the confines of his skin to be let out, to be near its mate. He wants to burry himself in Hannibal’s arms and suffocate on his scent, from his kisses. He wants Hannibal to throw him on Jack’s desk and pound into him, hard and fast, until he left this office so full of Hannibal’s seed, they would produce a pup, a perfect combination of them. Will knows he cannot have this, that he shouldn’t want this. Having the alpha next to him makes it difficult. Having Matthew makes him distracted.

“You’re leaving tomorrow for Oregon,” Jack continues, giving them the details of the case. “I’ll come a few hours after you land.”

When they’re finished, they leave the office, Will going through the door first followed by Hannibal. They walk down the hallway slowly and without speaking to each other. Will begins to quicken the pace, turning left. Hannibal reaches out for Will’s arm, pulling him backwards.

“You didn’t tell Jack,” Hannibal says to Will, his voice soft and warm.

“Are you telling me that I should have?” Will spits back, his eyes welling up with tears. He knows he shouldn’t be so weak, to crumble like this. He had spent months building up walls, protecting himself against the memories of the past. With Hannibal so close, they leach through the cracks in the walls, flooding every room of his mind palace.

Hannibal shakes his head, no. “I want to know why.”

“If you ever loved me you would have turned yourself in,” Will replies, ripping his arm away. “If the words you told me were true, the future you planned for us, the children you wanted us to have, you wouldn’t be standing here but behind bars to face yourself.”

“You don’t want that,” Hannibal protests, knowing the truth that Will hasn’t come to realize yet. Will hadn’t gone down the dark path that Hannibal had hoped for, he hadn’t had enough time to sprout into his true self. If they had more time together, Will would have flourished into the darkness.

Will closes his eyes, inhaling slowly to compose himself. “It doesn’t matter what I want. I can’t talk to you anymore, Hannibal. Matthew is waiting for me.” The sound of Will’s footsteps shatter Hannibal, who lets the coat he’s holding in his hand drop to the floor clumsily.

_The fridge is emptied, its contents on the floor. Will sits in the pile of hermetically sealed meat on the floor, trembling. Hannibal rushes towards him, his mate in distress. Will’s scent turns bitter, terrified._

_“Don’t come close to me!” he shouts, taking a gun off of the ground and pointing it to Hannibal. “It makes so much fucking sense,” he laughs hysterically, his hair wet with sweat, the sweat dripping down his forehead._

_“What have you figured out, Will?” Hannibal breathes calmly, taking a step back._

_“I know who you are.”_

_“Who am I?”_

_Will presses the trigger lightly before releasing it with a staggered breath. “I’ve slept and dined with the Chesapeake Ripper. Love must be blind.”_

_“Your vision is cleared now,” Hannibal takes a few steps closer to Will, kneeling onto the floor so they are at eye level. “It doesn’t have to be this way. You see beauty in places others find horror. Tell me you understand, Will. I know you do.”_

_“Don’t—don’t do that, Hannibal. You can’t manipulate me, not now that I know.”_

_“How does it feel, Will, to know that you’ve always had the Chesapeake Ripper in the palm of your hands?”_

_Will purses his lips, biting back the words. He refuses to respond, approaching Hannibal and putting the gun against Hannibal’s forehead. “I’m horrified,” he finally replies._

_“You won’t kill me.”_

_“This is too impersonal,” Will shudders, keeping the gun against Hannibal’s forehead for only a moment more before slowly lowering it. “We’re done, Hannibal. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to think about you. We never were.”_

_Will gets up from the floor, leaving the home they’d spent so many months in together. The shutting of the door is a final blow, leaving Hannibal alone in the kitchen as he’d always been before. This loneliness is worse now than before, consuming all of him. He’d tasted happiness, let himself grow fat and stupid off of it. It bites him back, a merciless thing._

****

A clerical error leads them to share a hotel room in Portland. Neither of them argues with the concierge at the desk, knowing that fate would have its way anyway. Will feels as if it was playing a cruel joke on him. He would let fate have its laugh. Will places his duffel bag by the couch. “We’re not arguing over who sleeps where. This is my side of the room the bed is your side. I want my space.”

Hannibal nods, letting Will have his space. This would be their last night here, the murderer already in custody. Their time together would be over, and weeks would go by before another case together. Professionally, they are compatible, though Will doesn’t want to acknowledge even this. Tomorrow they would leave, and Hannibal would call Jack.

“I’ll let Jack know that we cannot consult together,” Hannibal tells him, taking a toothbrush out of his bag. “I’m sorry to not do this sooner.”

“Thank you,” Will manages, waiting for Hannibal to leave before letting out a silent sob. The smell of Hannibal in the room engulfs him, his heart churning. Matthew disappears in his mind, only Hannibal remaining. The name is on a broken record, possessing him. Will begins to shake. He hadn’t allowed himself this before, to feel, to mourn. He had lost his greatest love. It could no longer be. The realization claws at him desperately, to reverse it, to go back in time, to close the refrigerator door and walk away blindly.

Hannibal comes out of the bathroom, watching as Will drops his clothes onto the couch and turns to face Hannibal, his face red and eyes swollen from the tears. “Will,” he exhales, rushing forward.

“You are cruel,” Will shouts at him, hitting Hannibal on the chest. “You place yourself everywhere. In the park, at work, in this hotel. You think I hadn’t noticed. You want me to be consumed by you. If you could, you would have everyone turn their backs to me so that only you would remain.” Will sees the vision brewing in Hannibal’s mind, the plan which Hannibal wants to enact but hesitates. “You hate that I moved on.”

“I love you,” Hannibal chokes out, placing his hand on Will’s cheek. “How couldn’t I hate seeing you in the arms of another?”

“You would kill him.”

“Do you love him?” Hannibal demands. “Will?”

“Yes,” Will bites out, looking Hannibal in the eyes.

“It’s a lie,” Hannibal responds, pressing closer into Will so that their bodies are touching. “Is he dark enough to see your light?”

“Do you know what I see when I see you? Your thoughts are like little suggestive whispers, a muse for art. You make me hate myself for seeing you. There’s no happiness with you, with the Ripper. Don’t you understand? I had to move on with him, with Matthew.”

“Is he bold enough to take you on? Do you feel like you belong? Does he drive you wild?” Hannibal presses on, backing Will’s into the back into the wall, placing his lips over Will’s barren bonding site.

“You’re a terror,” Will presses on. “You were the first good thing I’d ever felt. I’d ever had. And it was a lie. Did you plan on eating me? Of course you did, from the first rude word out of my mouth. But I was precarious, you were unsure. You knew that you loved me from the moment you saw me, and you wanted to destroy me because of it. Job well done.” Will pushes Hannibal away, walking past him only for Hannibal to grip Will from behind and clutch on to him. He can’t bare to lose Will, not now, not again.

Will turns around in Hannibal’s arms, a guttural wine escaping his mouth. “You have to let me find happiness elsewhere. You can’t give that to me, Hannibal.”

“But do you really feel alive without me? I know you don’t. I know the empty look on your face whenever you’re with him.”

“He worships me. Adores me. Takes care of me.” Will’s words are wavering, unsure, but he forces them out of himself. “And he’s not you.”

“It’s a farce you’ve led yourself to believe. Leave him for me, Will.” Hannibal captures Will’s mouth, his hands moving to Will’s shirt. “Please,” he begs.

Will melts into Hannibal’s touch, his hands making their way to remove Hannibal’s clothing. The clothes fly onto the floor, as they stumble into the bed, their bodies crashing against each other. He parts from Hannibal, looking into his eyes, finding a man bursting with love and regret. He knows he shouldn’t. He knows he should stop this, that Hannibal would stop if he would only say the word. His mouth opens and then closes, unable to resist Hannibal. He succumbs to him, spreading his legs, letting Hannibal in. Will writhes under Hannibal’s touch, moaning, pleading.

“Devour me,” Will cries out as Hannibal presses into him, filling him with his cock.

“You belong to me, Will. You always will.” Hannibal pins Wills’ head above his forehead, thrusting deep inside of Will. “Tell me,”

“Hannibal,” Will shakes his head, closing his eyes to prevent the tears from spilling.

“Tell me,” Hannibal groans, his knot threatening to expand.

“Fill me, Alpha, please.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to give you everything,” Will moans out, slick pouring from his hole. Their union is volatile, explosive, but Will aches for it. He’d begun to whither away without Hannibal’s touch. He realizes now how much he had yearned for it every time Matthew had touched him in this way. “Fill me, breed me, please. Hannibal. I’m so empty.”

Hannibal’s knot begins to swell, his seed spilling into Will. His Alpha hindbrain tells him to secure them a pup, to fill Will until he’s swollen from his seed, until he looks almost pregnant. He knows it won’t take, but the hope festers within him regardless. “Will,” Hannibal shudders, pulling Will into his arms.

They kiss in the haze of bliss, their arms and legs tangling up in each other, their bodies warm and glowing in a sheath of sweat. Slowly, the euphoria leaves Will, his more rational mind taking over. He waits for Hannibal’s knot to deflate, pulling himself away from Hannibal who is sleeping on the bed beside him. He dresses himself quietly and packs his bag. He would take the first plane away from here and use his own money to pay for the ticket. The plan is fully formed in his head. He will not breathe a word of this to Matthew when he returns home.

Hannibal sits up from the bed awake now, noticing its sudden emptiness. “Will?” he calls out, looking to his left to see Will fully dressed.

“Goodbye, Hannibal,” is all Will can say, walking out of the room and letting the door click close behind him.

Hannibal stares out into the emptiness of the room, knowing that Will would soon enter his heat. Perhaps in the next months or so. He cannot let Will share it with Matthew Brown, not after this. Not after what they had done together tonight. Will still loves him, Hannibal knows it. Will is only afraid to admit to himself that he loves all of him, even those dark bits which so many others would revile, Will finds love in those as well.

Will hadn’t pulled the trigger that day.

Will hadn’t turned him in.

Will had instead spoken in a language that only they could understand, a pain so deep that it would convey how much Will cares for him. He wants to make Hannibal feel just as he had, and this is the only way he can do so. But eventually revenge would grow banal and unsatisfying for Will. He would come to see it eventually. Hannibal would make Will see why he rejects him now, again, as he had that night months ago. He would do so because he cannot allow Will to make mistakes, to choose the wrong mate for the sake of reciprocity.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Three days had passed, Will trying to find balance in his home. It’s funny how Wolf Trap seems different now, his life off-kilter. He longs for the balance he felt for a moment, short as a breath, in Portland with Hannibal. He tries to lose himself in fly fishing, in taking the dogs for walks. His mind always wanders. The activities are a mild comfort for his aching heart, and though he wishes he could feel normal he doesn’t. His life no longer feels as if it’s his. The cloister he finds is his memories, Hannibal’s face a stagnant river which he knows only he can move. And so, his walks become time away from Matthew where he can escape. His fishing becomes an outlet for him to scream at the river without a response, without judgement. The words from his lips quake, the plates that shield his heart coming apart. All the walls he’s built, tumble. He stands in the rubble, gasping, choking on the dust. As he looks up, he finds Hannibal pulling him out and into a world that no longer exists. He loves that world, he knows it.

_“Will,” Hannibal rasps into his ear._

_“Yes, Hannibal, God, harder.” Will curls underneath Hannibal, slick pooling between his thighs. He needs this, to be ravaged. He knows that without being torn apart by Hannibal, he is nothing._

_“Do you know how empty I felt before you?” Hannibal cries, Will arching his back beneath him. “You complete me, my darling.” His teeth graze the bonding sight, ever so close._

_Will gasps for air, moving away from Hannibal. “I love you,” he stifles, flipping Hannibal over so that he’s on top. He sits on Hannibal, inserting his thick Alpha cock into his needy hole, waiting to be filled. “You’re everything to me.”_

_But his neck remains bare, unmarked. He isn’t sure why he resists, not then._

The bell rings on his line, alerting Will that a fish is biting his bait. The strength in his arms flees from him, his hands growing numb and incapable. He drops his fishing pole into the river, screaming out—why hadn’t he bonded with Hannibal, why hadn’t he remained willfully blind?

_“Do you really feel alive without me?” Hannibal whispers, pleads, begs._

“I don’t,” Will chokes out, dropping to his knees in the river, the flow of the water taking him downstream. He lets it carry him away, far from his home, far from where he has to be reminded that Hannibal isn’t there. Where he doesn’t have to care. “Are you happy?” he asks the sky, as if it’s Hannibal watching him from above. “Are you happy?” he screams, water filling his mouth. He spits it out, not letting the heartbreak kill him. He’s already dead in a way. He doesn’t need to die again.

****

Matthew saves him. He isn’t supposed to. Will wasn’t meant to be saved. He was meant to disappear. Matthew came and picked him up in his arms and carried him home, like a good man. Like a good Alpha should. He wraps Will in blankets, gives him a heating pad and tea. He does anything to make Will feel warm.

The problem is Will can’t feel.

“Do you want to talk?” Matthew asks, placing a hand in Will’s hair and stroking it delicately.

Will shakes his head, starring into the tea. It’s peppermint. He doesn’t like it. Not because it’s peppermint. The wrong Alpha provides him with it. “No.”

“Will you, eventually?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You’ve been different.”

“People aren’t constant, unchanging things. Maybe it’s temporary.”

“Is it the case with Hannibal? Is that why you’re torn apart like this?”

“Why does it have to go back to him?” Will shouts, throwing the mug across the room. He pounds his fists into his thighs, digging deep into the flesh. “I’m sorry,” he exhales, still now.

Matthew draws away from Will. “Your heat is coming in a few weeks. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed.”

Will nods, staring at the broken mug on the floor. “It’s alright. I’m sorry. I’m cold, I’m tired. I slipped on a rock. I didn’t have the strength to swim.”

Matthew believes him, not because he thinks Will is telling the truth, but because there’s no alternative for him. If he doesn’t believe him, what would he do?—Leave? He doesn’t want to, even if Will’s mind is elsewhere now. It would change, he tells himself, once Will’s heat is over.

****

When Will receives the next call from Jack, he expects Hannibal to not make good on their deal. He expects that Hannibal would be ready across from Jack, a seat empty next to him for Will to sit in. Jack’s office holds no such favor. He only finds Jack, leaning back in his chair, glasses perched on his nose as he reads through a file.

“I’m glad you made it on time,” Jack smiles, sensing Will’s distress.

“Where’s Hannibal?”

Jack cocks an eyebrow, exhaling. “He called saying you couldn’t work together anymore. He’ll be consulting on separate cases. I need you on this one.”

Will nods, taking his seat across from Jack.

“Did something happen between you two? I don’t mean to pry, but…”

“It’s nothing.”

“I know what nothing is, and this isn’t nothing, Will. Your mind is obviously elsewhere. Can I trust that I’ll have you undivided attention for this case?”

“Yes,” Will affirms.

Jack smiles. “Hannibal did this for you. He didn’t say it, but I could tell.”

“Thank you,” Will whispers, pulling Jack’s file closer to himself.

He misses the thick scent of Hannibal in the room. Jack’s office no longer feels like a place he wants to be in, either. His home. His work. His life grows barren. His impeding heat should make him hopeful, make his mind should wander to a possible future with Matthew.

It only brings him Hannibal.

The Chesapeake Ripper.

“Tell Hannibal if he’s willing, he can consult on this too. We need all the help we can get,” Will mumbles into the pages, looking up at Jack.

Jack pushes himself back into his seat. “I’ll relay the message. It’s a complicated one, I’ll agree.”

****

Hannibal arrives late to the crime scene. He’d been shocked to receive the call, Jack asking him to consult side by side with Will despite his request. Jack reassured him that Will would play nice. He knows this isn’t Jack asking but Will. When he arrives, he stands next to Will. He’s shocked to find Alana Bloom there also, a neutral party to observe, to monitor. Almost as if she’s a babysitter.

“Will,” Hannibal breathes, crossing his hands behind his back.

“Hannibal.”

The crime, it’s not what Will had expected. He’d seen the pictures, felt them wash over him as pouring rain that stripped him of his skin, leaving him naked, raw. In person, the pain assaults him without mercy, without hesitation. With Hannibal by his side, the intensity grows threefold. The pendulum swings before his eyes wildly. He allows himself to be taken with it. Taken back, to where there’s only him and Hannibal. Before the crime, before the display.

_Hannibal rides into Will wildly, pushing himself ever deeper into Will. “I would slay armies of men to get to you, if anyone should take you from me,” Hannibal groans into Will, shuddering at the pleasure of fucking Will Graham so sweetly. His omega is perfect, perfectly made for him. Placed on this Earth for only him to have._

_“You’re dramatic,” Will laughs, spreading his legs farther apart to accommodate Hannibal. Soon, he wouldn’t be able to manage sentences. The throws of heat would overtake him. It would muddle his thoughts and mush his better conscience. “Your words always hold so much in them. I don’t know how much of it is real,” he admits, pressing kisses into Hannibal’s shoulder._

_“Marry me,” Hannibal begs him, his knot beginning to swell. “Marry me and let me bond with you.”_

_The heat bites at him harder now, fevered and frenzied. “Han-Hannibal.”_

_“Let me give you everything. Let me breed you, fill you, adore you, serve you. I’m yours. Are you mine?”_

_“Yes!” Will screams, cumming underneath Hannibal, his muscles clenching and relaxing in pleasure. “I’ll marry you,” he moans out, “I will. We’ll bond on our wedding day.”_

_“You do?”_

_“I do,” Will laughs, finding forever in Hannibal’s eyes._

The pendulum carries him from this moment in time farther, transporting him to Hannibal’s frenzied depravity, a deadly weakness. He would slay armies of men. He would make the world tremble at its feet if it would mean he could have Will Graham.

_Hannibal builds the pile, slowly. Bodies upon bodies, a hoard. They stand at the feet of the pair, Alpha and Omega, sitting upon thrones of bone and sinew carefully bent together. Their bodies shine blood red in the sunlight. The Alpha and Omega disappear from their spots, him and Hannibal taking their places._

_“I will give you everything,” Hannibal promises him._

“It’s a testament,” Will gasps, taking steps away from the tableau. “The murderer, the Alpha, the Ripper, is showing his beloved what he could offer.” Will falls backwards on the ground, Hannibal standing still where he had been moments ago.

“And what is the Ripper thinking?” Hannibal asks him, taking a step forward to admire his own handiwork.

“He will emerge victorious.”

“Not on my watch,” Jack interjects.

“The Ripper is hurting. He’ll slip if we give him enough time,” Will manages, slowly standing from the ground. Alana walks closer to him, brushing grass off of his jacket.

“The Ripper is hopeful the apple of his eye will accept the seat next to him before that.”

“The Ripper is a dreamer,” Will bites back. 

“A visionary, in his own mind perhaps. His mate is truly special to have aroused this scene from him.”

“Not mate. Target,” Will inserts, stepping closer to Hannibal. “Don’t you think?”

“The Ripper may not agree,” Hannibal replies. 

“The Ripper doesn’t have to. Only the Omega matters, here.”

“Is that so?” Hannibal laughs. “Aren’t we looking for the Ripper?”

“Perhaps we should look for the mate,” Jack offers, standing between Will and Hannibal. “Are you sure, it’s the Ripper?” he asks then.

“Positive,” Hannibal affirms.

Will nods frantically. “It can’t be anyone else.”

Alana steps to Hannibal’s side, wrapping her fingers around his arms. Will raises his brows in shock but stifles the other reaction, the beast within him that urges him to lunge forward, to rip her apart. She is no omega worthy of Hannibal, it tells him. Will convinces himself that he’s possessed. He shouldn’t listen to the voice in his head.

“We’ll find the mate then,” Jack nods before removing himself from the scene, stepping in his car feet away.

He leaves the three of them—Hannibal, Will, and Alana—alone.

“Are you with her?” Will shouts.

“Will,” Alana steps in, moving her hand in front of her, a stop sign.

He is not good with such things. He presses on. “Did you move on so quickly?”

“You have Matthew,” Hannibal laughs. “You’re not one to judge.”

“Hannibal, we should go,” Alana insists, walking away from Will.

“We aren’t together,” Hannibal finishes. “Perhaps I should have let Jack know we can’t work together when he called despite my earlier request.”

“Professional. Really, Hannibal,” Will bites back, stepping forward. “Alana you should go.”

“No, Will. There’s no need to argue here. You both need to leave. Hannibal—come on,” Alana pleads.

“Alana, please. We need to have this conversation in private.”

Alana sighs, her arms dropping to her sides. She allows a second to pass before leaving them both, three becoming two. Hannibal and Will look to the scene, Will stepping forward to observe it closer. “You’ve gone too far,” Will whispers, his voice low. “This is the opposite of what I wanted.” _It’s beautiful._ Will tells himself.

“You left,” Hannibal reminds him, stepping closer to Will and placing a hand on the small of his back. He’s aware that Alana hasn’t left yet, sitting in her car watching. It doesn’t matter to him, if she were to see. She wouldn’t be able to hear their conversation, and that’s all that matters to him.

Will steps away from Hannibal, not wanting the closeness. “Why would you do this?”

“I am the Chesapeake Ripper.”

“How banal. Do you still hope to win me back?”

“How did Matthew react when he found out?”

“I haven’t told him,” Will admits, biting his lip. “I won’t be telling him.”

“How curious. If that’s the case, expect to hear the Ripper’s call.”

“I won’t pick up.”

“You won’t need to,” Hannibal breathes, walking away. “I hope you’re doing well. I hope he’ll make you happy,” Hannibal calls out before turning away, his back facing Will.

_He doesn’t._

****

Hannibal holds the ring in his fingers, setting it down on the stand of his harpsichord. If no one would be here to hear him, to understand the depth of his turmoil, he would bleed it out onto the keys. The notes would sing for him, in understanding. Now that he’s alone.

It’s late into the night, but he finds that he can’t sleep. He had tried wine, a sleeping pill or two. Neither brought him the calming lull of sleep that he requires. He soothes himself the only remaining way he can, through music. Composition. So be it, he tells himself. Another song for Will Graham to go unheard.

The notes are a melancholy siren that echo his thoughts, that fill him with longing. He achieves a state of full withdrawal from the universe, finding something higher, before being brought back down too soon. Even this proves to be fruitless.

The ringing of his phone pulls him away from the keys. “Hello?” he calls into it.

“Hannibal,” Will’s voice greets him on the other end.

Hannibal pauses in disbelief. This is before his planned time. It would still be another few days before he would pull Will away from his world with Matthew again, reminding him of the alternative that waits for him with open arms. 

“Will?” he responds, leaning against the back of his sofa. “It’s late.”

“You’re not asleep,” he counters. “Neither am I.”

“Where is your partner?”

“He’s on the night shift at BHSCI,” Will fills in. “I—I don’t know why I called,” he laughs into the phone.

“Could you possibly miss me?” Hannibal questions, hope in his words.

“I should go,” Will gulps. “The morning is hours away.

“We have hours,” Hannibal comments. “Will, my lovely Omega.”

“Alpha,” Will moans into the phone, weak, needing. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

The line clicks at the end of his words, Will having hung up. Hannibal breathes into the phone, listening to the gentle droning on the other end, before hanging up. He returns to the harpsichord, picking up the ring and rubbing it between his fingers. He’d intended to give it to Will. The universe had intended for something else entirely, it seems.

****

Hannibal’s front door clicks open in the middle of the night, the sun still hours away. Footsteps pad towards the study, hesitant. It’s as if they convey the thoughts reconsidered, the spontaneity of their owner’s actions.

A second door opens, the footsteps traveling through the kitchen, a third door opens the footsteps going through the living room, finally to the last door. A hand lands on the doorknob, a final question before the creak of the doorknob as it twists. There can be no regrets, now.

Hannibal looks up from his spot next to the fireplace, wrapped up in a blanket. With Will in his home, his home no longer feels so large. He smiles, patting the floor beside him. He knows Will must be cold.

“Did you know I would come?” Will stutters out, reaching for Hannibal’s mug of spiced hot chocolate. He can smell the chili inside of it, reminding him of happier times.

“Perhaps not tonight,” Hannibal confesses, smiling. “It seems that we’ve settled in the same orbit.”

“Spinning around the same central issue,” Will continues. “But we’re across from each other, too far to reach.”

“We could detach ourselves from it, be free.”

“You’re an idealist,” Will laughs, taking a sip of the hot chocolate. “Lost in your dreams.”

“What is a man without his dreams?”

“Empty.”

“Are you empty, Will?”

“At times.” Will hands the hot chocolate back to Hannibal, feeling sweat bead up on the back of his neck. His heat is coming, sooner than he expected. The stress is bringing it closer, pushing him to breed, to procreate. “I feel untethered from my post.”

“Does Matthew ground you?” Hannibal fishes, sipping over the spot Will had, a kiss he allows himself to have.

“The idea of Matthew grounds me. I’ve grown infatuated with a man that doesn’t exist.”

“Is there room for love in the fantasy?”

“Love is more akin to hatred of our enemies than infatuation and dreams.”

“Am I your enemy, Will?”

“I wish I had the strength in my fingers to wring you neck,” Will breathes out, watching the flames of the fire, smoke rising from its tips. “Wouldn’t you love for me to be your demise.”

“It would be preferable to this. If you should rid yourself of me in that way, I’d allow it.”

“And give you the satisfaction?” Will scoffs.

“So, you want my suffering.”

Will takes a portion of the blanket for himself, wrapping it around his shoulders as he scoots closer to Hannibal. He notices the gun at the edge of the fireplace then, the flames reflected in its cobalt. Slick begins to form in his pajama pants, realizing he would be soaked before the end of the night.

Hannibal sniffs at the air, noticing the fevered scent of Will. “Did you come to tease me?”

“I don’t know why I came, as I said.” Will licks his lips, touching Hannibal’s hand beneath the blanket.

“I need to know what you want. While you’re still able to express it. I will not share you.”

“I do not want you.”

Hannibal moves his hand away from Will, giving him the blanket. He stands, turning around, noticing a change in the scent of the air. He smells anger, revenge, heartbreak, not unlike his own months ago.

“How nice of you to join us,” Hannibal greets, Matthew standing on the other end of the room, a gun in his hand. “You’ve come to take Will home?”

“How could you?” Matthew asks, pointing the gun at Will, then Hannibal. “We’d planned for a life together,” he seethes. “Did you sleep with him in Portland? Of course,” Matthew cackles bitterly. 

Will turns, knocking the hot chocolate over. “Matthew, I—”

“You don’t have the words to change the fact that you used me.”

“I didn’t use you!” Will protests. “I—I,”

“Admit it, you still love him.”

Hannibal reaches behind himself, pulling a gun out from the elastic of his pajama pants, and pointing it at Matthew. “There won’t be violence here tonight. You may take Will.”

“No, it’s over. You’re finished.”

As Matthew’s eyes focus in on Hannibal, Will moves to take the gun from the fireplace, pointing it at Hannibal first, looking over to Matthew who smiles. “Maybe there’s hope yet. Go ahead, baby, if that’s what you want, I’ll let you take the first shot.”

“We need to stop this now. Both of you!” Will shouts.

“You need to choose,” Hannibal demands. “Who will it be?”

Matthew tightens his hold on the gun, looking over Will. “I’ll give you ten seconds to decide.” The smirk on his face disgusts Will, finding no difference between those he hunts for a living and Matthew Brown. And so he wonders, who it would be, tonight—the man who had caused him so much suffering for his deception, or the man who he’d chosen blindly out of need? Both deserve bullets, Will realizes.

The seconds tick away, Matthew stepping closer. “Three,” he begins. 

“Matthew, no!” Will cries

“Two,” he continues.

“Will, it’s alright. It’s time,” Hannibal sighs, letting his gun down.

The sound of the bullet firing through the barrel hits Hannibal’s ears as he closes his eyes, waiting. Seconds later, he feels elations, as if he’s floating. He wonders if this is what death feels like. When he opens his eyes, he finds Will standing beside him, dropping the gun on the floor. Surely, it must be heaven, then. How curious he would end up there, instead of down under.

“I choose you,” Will breathes shakily. “You, Hannibal.”

Life couldn’t be so sweet, Hannibal thinks. Matthew Brown gasps for air on the other side of the room, drawing his last breath as the blood runs out of him and onto the floor. “Why?”

“I see you… I love you. You chose death in order to save me from the fallout. You saw the alternative and knew he came for me.”

Hannibal smiles, pulling Will into his arms. They wouldn’t have much time like this, Will still cogent in his arms. “Does the contempt end here, then?”

“Perhaps not, but I will not leave,” Will acknowledges, “I can’t leave you.”

“I won’t let you,” Hannibal promises, taking Will by the hand and leading him up the stairs. “We’ll have to leave once your heat is over. They will notice Matthew Brown is missing and it will lead them to you, which will lead them to me.”

“We’ll go, Hannibal. Wherever we need to, to start anew.” Will presses his lips into Hannibal’s, a short but intimate kiss.

Hannibal presses his palm to Will’s lower belly, arousing Will. “We’ll start a family.”

Will bites his bottom lip, looking at Hannibal with tender eyes. “We’ll have to agree on a few more things, before then.”

“We’ll have nine months to discuss the details,” Hannibal counters. “Is this what you want, Will, truly?”

“I’m done with revenge,” Will concludes. “It’s no longer better than being with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is it-the end of this fic. I hope you've enjoyed it. :)


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